


All These Things We Leave Unsaid

by Marvelicious (Jayjaybe)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bottom Thor, Constructive Criticism Welcome, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/pseuds/Marvelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki knows better than to ask why his brother continues to oppose him, forced to abandon that line of thought before the vice grip around his chest can tighten even further. He's unsure of where they stand for a single, stomach-dropping second, the hot flash of terror that accompanies it not unlike how it feels to phase between levels of reality without the aid of the bifrost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All These Things We Leave Unsaid

Loki has always been one for a good secret, especially one of Thor's.

The room is dark when he enters, slipping past the security with ease and intruding with a simple touch to the lock. Loki flicks his fingers and the lamps spring to life, flooding the room with light. He experiences the faintest, fleeting twinge of disatisfaction – Thor is not here – but it is no matter. Surely he will be along soon. Loki undresses efficiently in the meantime, removing his clothing one article at a time and folding them into a neat pile upon the chair nearest the door.

An hour later and Thor is still absent. Loki paces the room not unlike a caged animal now, trying to pretend to himself that it is only irritation that spurs him on. There's an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach and it's only growing with each passing second. Of course his fool of a brother would be late, probably caught up with his new Midgardian friends – Loki flings his arm out and sends a lamp crashing to the floor. It shatters, but not so satisfyingly as he would have hoped.

Next to go is a picture of the Avengers all together, posed and smiling on the bedside table. Loki doesn't understand it, can't comprehend why Thor must join with these “ _heroes_ ” - the very word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth – against him. They have stood together for centuries. Thor continues to profess his love unto Loki in every secret moment and stolen glance even now. And still... Loki can't help but wonder if his reckless words finally grow less sincere by the day.

He upends the whole table without a thought. Thor, with his maddening sense of justice and morals, who can never seem to leave well enough alone. “Why. Aren't. I. Enough. For. You.” Loki grits out through clenched teeth as he stomps on that godforsaken picture and grinds the glass shards into the floor with his heel. Thor, that big, foolish hero. He was never the one Loki intended to hurt.

And he's still not here.

Loki sets the room to rights – including the damn picture – and stares at the clock. _Brother, where are you?_ Something's got his chest in a vice-grip; it tightens with every 'tick' of the second hand to the otherwise silent room. Surely Thor will come. He's never been this late, but surely... At least in theory, it's his apartment; Loki consoles himself with that and settles back onto the bed to wait. 

A moment later he snatches the newly-repaired picture back off the nightstand. Loki doesn't look at it, simply flings it across the room once more. It hits the wall with a loud 'thud' and the tinkle of breaking glass, flies back to his hand whole, and Loki hurls it at the wall again.

Thud. _Please show up_. Thud. _I didn't mean the things I said_. Thud. _You know I love you... Don't you?_ Thud thud thud.

He's jolted from that rather unfortunate train of thought by the sound of a key in the lock. Loki's fingers might shake a bit, but he repairs the picture one final time and tosses it under the bed before the heavy footsteps can make their way to the bedroom. So Thor decided to show up after all.

He says Loki's name almost before the door is open all the way, like Thor just knew he would still be waiting even after all this time. Loki lets out a huff of irritation at that particular bit of presumptuousness, but leans back where he sits on the bed all the same, reclined enough to look casual, sultry even. He doesn't want to think about what it says about him, but it's also easy enough to pretend not to care. Loki has long been good at that particular deception.

He scowls up at Thor. “You're late.” Loki tells him, but his posture tells another story altogether, calculated specifically to make Thor salivate, to want to reach out and touch, to make love with their bodies despite anything else that might have passed between them.

Thor's eyes flick up and down his body for a moment just as Loki had intended, but he stands as if frozen in the doorway for an age longer. He sighs heavily, and Loki thinks the weight of it has opened up a chasm of the likes he's never felt before in his life. “I didn't think you'd come.” His golden brother admits, shoulders sloped, but he begins to remove his own clothing all the same. “After – nevermind.”

Loki knows better than to ask why his brother continues to oppose him, forced to abandon that line of thought before the vice grip around his chest can tighten even further. His fingers ache to reach out and touch, curling at his sides reflexively. Loki grips his own thighs and puts up a mask approximating impassivity as Thor finishes with his clothing, unsure of where they stand for a single, stomach-dropping second, the hot flash of terror that accompanies it not unlike how it feels to phase between levels of reality without the aid of the bifrost. He wants it too much, too desperately, can't possibly bear to have Thor see the shame of Loki's _need_ for him even as his fingers dig crescent shaped marks into his own skin. The soft 'snick' of Thor's belt coming undone is the only sound in the room and Loki can only wonder if it's hesitance that brings his brother to undress so reverently.

The muscles of his arms shift and flex as Thor bends, eases thick leather down his thighs, and Loki still can't help the hunger in his gaze. He bites down on his lip until it stings and swells. Thor is glorious and perfect even with his head bowed; Loki's golden champion, shining with sweat and the simple joy of a battle well fought. The marks he bears, splotches of color painted upon Thor's otherwise unblemished skin – Loki knows they can be traced back to his own hand, but Thor has always borne those well. Purple is a fitting color for a king.

He looks up before Loki can hide the flush stealing across his cheeks, but if the brilliant, _genuine_ smile he returns Loki with is anything to go by – fixing Loki in its radiance so thoroughly they might be in the throne room of Asgard and Loki still compelled to kneel – he's misunderstood. “Loki,” He breathes, voice already gone low and rough and intimate, a seriousness in his eyes that Loki doesn't know how to interpret even as he jokes, “Must I touch myself?”

“Far be it from me to stop you.” Loki rolls his eyes, tone making it perfectly clear what he thinks of _that_. He rises though, throat tight as he approaches his brother despite the comforting banter. Loki's thighs sting with the reminder of his nails on every too-cautious step, and he half-considers turning Thor's own gesture against him; grabbing his brother by the back of his neck and tugging him in for a rough crush of lips before Thor can tear him apart instead.

It's Thor who takes the final step though, kicking his pants aside and closing the distance between them before Loki can react. His golden brother always was the brave one.

His fingers cup Loki's jaw and urge his gaze up; as much as he might want to, Loki doesn't deny him that. Thor's eyes look like a storm despite the brightness of the blue, boring into Loki's as if he's trying to solve a particularly frustrating conundrum and Loki's breath is already hitching in his chest. Perhaps he is; Loki doesn't know when he lost the ability to read his brother like one of the tomes he used to prize so highly in their youth, and that's the most unsettling thing of all. He turns his head too soon, shaking off Thor's steady hand. “Still a romantic I see,” Loki scoffs, tilting his neck to scrape teeth over Thor's collarbone. It's easier than addressing whatever just passed between them.

“You've never complained of that before.” Thor's hand pulls him in tight, hot against his lower back even as his fingers dip ever so slightly lower, brushing against the curve of Loki's ass. Shivers shoot up Loki's spine, and it's all he can do not to just melt, or to push against his brother needy and insistent, begging to be fucked.

He bites down in retaliation, sinking his teeth into the meat of Thor's shoulder until he hears the telltale sound of breath being sucked in through a clenched jaw. “No. I suppose I haven't.” Loki agrees with him, shoving a leg forward between them until the heat of his brother's erection is pressed up against him there too. The slight motion of Thor's hips isn't lost on him, unthinkingly needy in reaction, and it's a perverse sort of pleasure Loki takes from transferring his own desperation to his brother.

“I want to fuck you.” Loki offers slyly. There's a certain amount of vulnerability that he needs to show to keep Thor coming back despite his sins, but Loki thinks he might come apart if he allows Thor his reckless, sweet lovemaking tonight, and that just won't do.

Thor is easy – he shudders from Loki's casual declaration alone – but Loki follows it up with the soft drag of nails down his sides anyway. He hasn't even reached Thor's hipbones before his brother is gasping out, “Ohhh. _Please_ ,” his cock twitching against Loki's thigh. It is easy to pull his brother apart when the man gives in to him so, but Loki never ceases to appreciate the effects of his own skill. Before he can tease Thor about it though, the blonde's free hand is curling around the back of Loki's neck, thumb tucked neatly against his ear as he pulls Loki in.

Thor's mouth is hot and insistent alongside his fingers, working over Loki's neck, his jawline; sucking and nipping at his fragile skin. The gentle tug and wet heat of it would have Loki panting even without the slight hint of pain or the tantalizing thought of bruises. As it is, he clings to his brother, hips rocking forward almost beyond any semblance of control, fingernails digging into Thor's back with each new sensation. He's a reactive, needy thing at his core and Loki wants nothing more than to give in to this – to whimper prettily for his brother and let himself be offered up by default, Thor sweeping him up in strong arms, carrying him to the bed and caging Loki in the only way he really knows how... It's the most tempting thought yet. But a loving prison is still a prison nonetheless.

“Loki,” Thor intones, and Loki feels more than hears his brother's deep voice rumbling against his pulse. He's so plaintive sounding that Loki almost lets himself believe Thor wishes he could say more, but they're long past those days. Loki might not be able to help moaning at the loss of contact as he pulls back, tilting his head so that Thor can either kiss him on the mouth or not at all, but it's for the best that he does. There are words threatening to spill from his own lips, and he fears that even the sound of his brother's name on his tongue will give too much away. 

Yet Loki still loses himself in it at the first press of Thor's lips. It's all too easy. His teeth scrape over Thor's lower lip, and the answering hitch in his breath sets off something in Loki's chest akin to butterflies. The feel of being wrapped up so thoroughly in his brother's embrace will never cease to feel like home despite his insistence he has none, no matter how often Loki wonders that their kisses haven't turned bitter with so much longing and regret. Thor's tongue is soft against his, somehow still gentle despite his fervor. Loki's sighing into the kiss before he can help himself, fingers clutching Thor's hips for something to hold onto even before he remembers what a fantastic grip his golden hair offers.

“Fuck me then,” Thor pants, breaking the kiss to bring their foreheads together, one hand scrabbling to pry Loki's fingers from where they're buried against his hipbone. There's something dangerous in his voice despite the otherwise acceptable choice of words, and surely Loki can't be the only one who thinks Thor begs like he's saying something else entirely. His fingers tighten around Loki's, and then Thor's tugging him along, urging him towards the bed before Loki can hesitate any longer – _Or are you worried I might change my mind yet, dear brother?_ In another time, he'd delight in it; Loki would tease Thor with anything, no matter how cruel.

Perhaps Thor would have even believed him.

Loki's throat is tight again when he glances over his brother's body, bruises seemingly darker than they were even a moment before. He wonders if Thor hurts, but doesn't dare to voice it, and hopes the gulf stretching between them in the silence is a figment of his own mind only. Loki wishes he could ask, because Thor has always been hard and tall and _solid_ , but Loki can't remember when the puppyish look of boyhood faded from his features and it feels like a stab to the gut to have missed such a thing.

“Loki?” He avoids his brother's eyes – can't remember how to read them anymore, or perhaps he's been gone so long that Thor finally gave up and changed their silent language altogether – and settles for kissing his way up the bruises that form a convenient trail over his torso, wishing he had a way to soothe them from more than just Thor's skin. _I miss you_ , he wants to say, _I miss the_ me _I was with you_. But Odin's stolen that away from him as assuredly as he'd stolen everything else Loki once loved. His entire body feels cold at the reminder.

If only Thor could understand - “It's nothing.” Loki's tone is clipped, hard as ice. He's too rough as he nips at the taut skin where Thor's thigh meets his hip. Thor's breathing goes ragged, body tensing, but he doesn't protest. His fingers find their way into Loki's hair somehow, curling against his scalp, and Loki lets out a huff of surprise into his brother's skin.

“Don't tease me,” Thor growls, and for all that it's new and strange, it sends a jolt straight to Loki's cock. He lifts himself up against the pull of Thor's fist in his hair and presses into the cleft of his brother's ass, grinding his cock against the hard clenched muscle with a laugh until Thor remembers his manners a moment later. “Please,” He amends, voice hitching mid-word, and Loki just leans over to bite him again, this time harder.

“Don't I always?” He breathes against the wet, tender skin his mouth occupied a second before, then blows on it simply to make Thor shiver beneath him as Loki's saliva dries on his skin, “One would hope to find you used to it by now.” He can already see the mark of his teeth on Thor's chest when he draws back, and Loki's stomach twists. He knows it will fade before the rest of the bruises no matter how he tries and something in him aches even as he teases Thor some more, fingertips skimming over his brother's lips. “Suck.” Loki tells him with a vicious smirk, “Better get them good and wet – Ohhh, Thor.” The feel of his tongue flicking against Loki's fingers, warm and wet and just the slightest hint of suction, drives everything else – all doubt, all but his glorious brother and Loki's desire to reclaim him once again – from his mind.

The corners of Thor's mouth twitch up in a self-satisfied sort of smile around Loki's fingers. Cocky bastard. As if he could possibly know what it does to Loki to see his own mischievous inclinations echoed back to him. “I wonder if you'll still be smirking when I have you face down on the mattress, begging me for your release.” Loki taunts him, and clearly that does the trick. Thor sucks Loki's fingers in deep, arches his back and grinds his ass against Loki's cock, eyes begging in place of his mouth. He doesn't even make an attempt to hide his desperation.

It's Loki's turn to grin down at him then, tugging his fingers free with a wet 'pop'. “On your hands and knees.”

Thor hesitates, biting down on his lip, and Loki can see the conflict over whether or not to say something written clear across his face. “Please,” He settles on finally, body curling up from the bed as he reaches out for Loki's hips. And Loki doesn't move away, doesn't interrupt, gives in to self-sabotage by way of Asgard's golden prince. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Thor's strong hands close around him, and Loki goes still under the warmth of the large palms caging him in. “Just like this.” There's clearly more that he wishes he could say, but even Thor is not foolish enough to push his luck so far.

Equal parts thrill and horror send un-needed adrenaline flooding through his system. Thor wants Loki to take him like a lover. He bites his tongue hard enough to taste the faintest coppery hint of blood, but nods. It's almost worth the relief on Thor's face, the way the tension visibly melts from his corded arms and knotted abdomen, and makes Loki ache to kiss away every last remnant of that uncertainty. When did they become this?

Even with all that Loki knows now – and after all of the dark, terrible things that have passed between them – if he could find a way to do it all over again, he would. And he would find a way to save them.

The ache in his chest is back, but now it only makes him reckless. Loki plants his hands against his brother's chest and topples him back against the bed with all of their combined weight. He can't help but laugh as he follows Thor down, grinning at his brother like they're sixteen again and doing this deep in the forest for fear of being discovered. For all the bewilderment on Thor's face, his hands clench tighter around Loki's waist and Loki can see the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that wants to be a smile of his own. There's so much he should say - “ _Brother_ ,” Loki breathes, fervently as a prayer, leaning down until he can capture Thor's lips in another scorching kiss.

One of Thor's hands leaves his waist, slipping up the curve of Loki's already sweat slicked back, and Loki doesn't know what he's about to do until Thor is grasping his shoulder. He pulls Loki down onto his chest even as his hips are tilting to bring their cocks together. “Oh,” Loki gasps, and there's a moment when they both stare at each other in shock, mouths wet and open, breathing the other's breath – because whatever this is, it's become electric.

Thor is sweating too, just enough that their bodies slip against each other as Loki rolls his hips and shoves Thor into the mattress. “Make me feel it,” Thor begs him in between pressing open-mouthed kisses to Loki's collarbone, and though the words send a rush of heat straight to his cock, Loki knows his brother means with more than just their bodies. “Oh, Loki,” Thor's fingers are scrabbling for purchase against his skin, tugging him closer, roughly re-memorizing his body, “Take me, please. I'm yours, I-” Loki shoves a hand between them, wet with more saliva: it will be enough, and he doesn’t know if he could bear to let go of Thor for even a moment to look for better. Loki grasps his cock and positions himself before Thor can utter something that will make him shatter into pieces for once and for all. 

He eases inside Thor little by little, Loki's entire body quivering with the effort it takes just to hold back. “You always look so surprised,” Loki teases him, strained laughter forcing itself from his lips as Thor clenches, muscles tightening rhythmically around his cock. His brother's back is arched, taught as a bowstring, lips parted in that shocked, breathless 'O' as always, a sight familiar as the daytime sun.

Loki kisses it from him, splaying his fingers out beneath Thor's back to support him. He'd be willing to bet it's been quite some time since Thor was last fucked by anyone. Perhaps not since Loki last had the opportunity. The thought alone sends a thrill racing down his spine. Loki rocks his hips gently, working him open until Thor is moaning steadily, pushing up against him and grinding his ass against Loki's cock without hesitation. 

He wants to throw Thor back against the bed, hold him down and pound into him until he's exhausted. He wants to claim his brother so roughly, so thoroughly that Thor will be forced to remember him, that he'll be ruined for anyone else. Dark, possessive feelings twist up his gut, and Loki's fingers tighten against Thor's sides in unconscious response, digging into bruises from their earlier fight. Thor sucks in a quick breath, eyes falling shut as he pushes back against Loki's punishing grip, giving himself over without a fight. “Oh, please,” As good as it feels, as viciously as Loki wants this, it could only ever be a hollow victory.

Thor is writhing on the sheets beneath him, moaning Loki's name as if he's completely unaware of the twisted thoughts Loki's entertaining, or that the way Loki's fingernails drag against his skin feels far more sinister than his own crimes of passion. And this truly is why they've come to what they have. Because at the heart of it all Thor is good and golden, and no matter how Loki tries to show it to him, he will never believe the truth Loki must have known at some level all along: that his brother is only good for obsession and lies and destruction.

Loki forces his hands to the bed on either side of Thor, fisting the sheets rather than his brother's vulnerable flesh, and he lets the momentum carry him down until he's braced over Thor's solid form, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up. He lets his forehead fall against Thor's chest, gasping his name to the sweat-slicked heat of Thor's skin, over and over again in time with his thrusts.

The thick, suffocating feeling is building steadily along with his pleasure, and sweat trickles down the slope of his back as Loki moves. Thor is even closer than he is, breathy little gasps escaping his throat for every pivot of Loki's hips, and even without lifting his head, Loki knows his eyelids will be fluttering open and shut, Thor's pupils gone so wide that the brilliant blue of his eyes is nearly eclipsed by them. “ _Brother_ ,” He chokes out, bringing Loki's movements to a stuttering halt with just the word.

“Please,” Loki begs him; cold, so cold and clammy, and his voice breaks before he can force out any more – _don't_. Because he already knows what Thor will say to him, knows intimately the shape of those words on his brother’s tongue, and he cannot think of another thing so dangerous in all the nine realms.

Thor twists his hips, greedy and insistent, moving for them both as Loki's reduced to clawing at the sheets on either side of him, face pressed against his sweaty, solid chest. It starts in the increasing clench of Thor's muscles, and Loki feels every reaction of his brother's body as if it were his own orgasm – the sudden loss of breath, eyes slamming shut as all of his synapses seem to fire at once. “Loki,” Thor gasps. He's coming, spilling between them without even a hand on his cock. Loki feels it splash against his chest, dripping back onto Thor and trickling down towards his chin. “ _I love you_ – Loki, _brother_ –”

The words slam into him as violently as Loki knew they would, and if he could think beyond the sudden wave of fear and pleasure yanking him over the edge, Loki would have throttled him. There's a brilliant flash of light as the lamp on the beside table explodes, and then complete darkness. He comes so hard he nearly blacks out, sucking in deep, sobbing breaths when it finally recedes as if Thor had tried to kill him. It feels like he might have.

A gigantic, heavy arm crushes him to Thor's chest, and Loki's own arms tremble alarmingly before giving in. His chest is hitching, cheeks wetter than they were a moment ago. Thor lies beneath him silently, big and solid, and runs his fingers through Loki's hair. The comfortable thump of his heartbeat reverberates somewhere between Loki's jaw and his cheekbone. He can't bring himself to say the words, even after all of this; Loki bites his lip and swallows convulsively and finally pushes himself vaguely upright.

“When you were an even more foolish child than you are now,” He begins. Thor looks up at Loki with a sad smile and waits, recognition written all over his face. There are fat, ugly tears rolling down his cheeks, and Thor doesn't even bother trying to conceal it. They shine in the tiniest sliver of light left, one lone streetlight below the window casting them both in gold. “The most foolish child of them all told you a great many stories.”

Stories for unsullied princes with the world at their fingertips and all the recklessness of youth in their promises – stories like love, like forever. “The boy who told you those stories is gone.” Loki selects his words slowly, painfully. Thor has to know, has to understand this, “But the thing about stories – as long as there's someone to remember them -”

Thor nods determinedly, blinking back the tears. “As long as someone believes in them.” He adds. His eyes search Loki's, as if he's trying to see past something, or trying to find someone long lost. There's clearly more he wants to say, but maybe Thor has learned when to hold his tongue after all.

“Then they'll always be real,” Loki agrees, the most sincere he's allowed himself to be in a lifetime. All the things he'd said once, the lies he'd lived... By the look on Thor's face, even he understands the double meaning.

 

*-*-*

 

“If you ever find him on your travels,” Thor says cautiously, just as Loki turns to leave. His eyes are dry now, but the red ringing them betrays him. “Tell him – I always believed in his stories.”

Loki's breath catches in his chest, bitter and fragile. He bares his teeth in one last, sad smile. “So did I, brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Would you believe this was supposed to be shmoopy?)
> 
> Constructive criticism is greatly, greatly appreciated.


End file.
